


Unconscious Response

by fuzipenguin



Series: Pettiness and Consequences [6]
Category: Transformers Generation One
Genre: Angst and Feels, Gen, War
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-16
Updated: 2020-11-16
Packaged: 2021-03-09 20:27:47
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 636
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27592042
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fuzipenguin/pseuds/fuzipenguin
Summary: Trust is a work in progress.
Series: Pettiness and Consequences [6]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1179941
Comments: 8
Kudos: 58





	Unconscious Response

**Author's Note:**

> written for Ptrn prompt from JC: Ratchet - 'sparkling cries'

Most mecha have an automatic response to hearing sparkling or youngling cries. They sit up and take notice, trying to pinpoint the source in order to ensure a child isn’t coming to harm.

Medics have coding that takes it one step farther. If they hear a child cry, they automatically investigate and perform a general scan for health. Because even if there _is_ a caretaker, it doesn’t necessarily mean that caretaker is doing their job properly. More than one case of child neglect has been incidentally caught by a medic.

Then the war happened. Children either grew up or died, and kindling petered off because who wanted to raise a sparkling amidst mortar blasts?

That coding never went away, however. And certain mecha on both sides of the war made good use of that fact. It wasn’t a common practice, but several good doctors were lost because they couldn’t help themselves from investigating what turned out to be a recording of a sparkling wailing in distress.

Ever pragmatic, Ratchet hardened himself to those sounds. He created painful stopgaps in his own coding and improved his far range scanning abilities for the occasions he thought the noises were actually real.

Ratchet didn’t become immune to the pitiful cries, but he was better able to resist their call until he knew if it was a trap or not.

Then came the twins.

He wasn’t the one to find them. Jazz did, and he only discovered them because he practically tripped over them. Because just as Ratchet had learned to ignore the crying of children, so Sideswipe and Sunstreaker learned to be quiet and still in the face of the predator that the entire planet had become.

The twins were silent for several weeks after the Autobots took them in. At first, Ratchet didn’t think they even knew how to cry because they never did. Then one night, he awoke out of a deep recharge and stumbled over to their nest under his desk, barely even aware of what he was doing.

He stared into the pocket of darkness, straining his optics to see in the dim light he always kept on for the younglings. Sunstreaker, the yellow one, was sitting up and producing warbling, mournful chirps, optic fluid streaming down his still hollow cheeks. His twin was already squirming to get closer, tiny hands patting at Sunstreaker’s frame as if searching for an injury. When he spied Ratchet coming closer, he moved in front of Sunstreaker and snarled, tiny little engine revving in a warning.

“It’s all right… it’s all right, I won’t hurt you,” Ratchet said softly, holding his hands out to show that they were empty. He carefully lowered himself to his knees, just out of reach. Sideswipe gazed at him warily for a few moments, but ultimately dismissed him in favor of enfolding his twin into his arms, his reassuring croon making Ratchet’s spark clench.

“I won’t hurt you… I promise,” Ratchet whispered. His entire frame ached with the strut-deep need to gather up the brothers, hold them close, and keep them safe. All of the meddling with his coding meant nothing in the face of these two younglings he had taken upon himself to care for.

Yet he refrained. He kept his distance because they didn’t trust him enough to realize that any comfort he might give them was that and that alone.

Patience was not something Ratchet was known for, but he was making an effort for the twins. They obviously felt safe enough to recharge in his presence and to sleep deeply enough for memory purges to occur. Hopefully one day soon, they would let him care for them more than superficially, and then maybe… maybe they would let him love them with the spark they had wormed their way into.

~ End


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